Resolve

Fuckface and his whore stalked the internet every day for hours during the last twelve months hoping to find any little nugget that he could use against me in our divorce trial.  Therefore, I had to stay quiet for a bit to make sure they were not sniffing around here.  Turns out, they were not.  He submitted to his attorney some poor woman’s journal who was talking about not working so she could get alimony.  If he had not chickened out and settled beforehand I would’ve had to prove that it was not my journal during the trial.  Of course it wasn’t. HA! Stupid idiot. It’s like cutting the tip of a puzzle piece off to make it fit.

I have to ask the void as I’ve asked it over and over, if he is with his soulmate, then why is he (and she) so worried about what I’m doing. Either he will have to ultimately admit to himself that it was always about being a sneaky immature cheating coward or accept that he has to live with his whore and the mess they created.  I hope they live forever, together.  Eventually, the stacks of empty vodka bottles, cigarettes butts, ashes, and soot will consume their existence by manifesting into health issues or bankruptcy, or both.

Someone from a debt collection agency came the other day to serve him and I sent them right over to the whore’s house.  Perhaps if he had not brought the police over and attempted to get me in trouble at least eight times with restraining order requests and other false accusations in the last twelve months, I would have warned him and not thrown him under the bus.  But, no.  He wanted to count his money and leave me with nothing while trying to get me in trouble with the police. He insisted on separate bank accounts, home and cars in his name only, and credit cards in separate names, so now he can have all that is his.

The morning of the trial after a week-long prep and my attorney spending a long weekend getting ready, Fuckface settled for exactly what we (my attorney and I) were requesting for the last 10 months.

His settling may had something to do with the surmounting evidence we had concerning his acts of fraud (use everything, do not protect him!).  Or it could have been how the week before our trial was scheduled, the judge ruled on a motion and told the ex-husband that he was an imbecile for spending so much money on attorneys by bringing forth a personal belongings motion before the trial.  How stupid can you get? That motion alone between the two of us probably cost $7,000.   I had to sit there and listen to the judge censure us.  It was not my doing.  I didn’t file the motion. I read the internet and learned how personal belongings are dealt with after all the big stuff is divided.  However, I was not going to agree that there were things in the house that were not in the house, thus allowing him to ask for recompense for stuff that didn’t exist.

You cannot play fair with someone who is not playing fair.  Not suggesting to fight fire with fire, but I am recommending that you don’t express sympathy for his position.  Because you will get zero in return.  If you are getting sympathy and consideration from him, then probably you aren’t the audience I’m talking to.  Cheaters don’t consider their spouses. Cheaters do not express sympathy for what they have put the family through. If, in a fit of emotional turmoil you destroyed his collection of Coca-Cola bottles that he had been dragging around for the last 35 years hoping one day he would be able to sell for a killing (hint: they are worthless, every materialistic hoarder in America has a “collection”)  even though somehow it has become your responsibility to keep them from becoming dusty and broken, so be it.

What set of Coca-Cola bottles?  Didn’t he take them with him? Does he have a receipt? No, he does not, because within his haste to run to his whore he left stuff that he assumed you would care for.  Why exactly should you care for his shit?  Why?  He took exactly what he thought was valuable, –himself and probably some underwear and cologne that he bought during the affair trying to pretend as if he was sexier than he really was.

I have not seen those Coca-Cola bottles since 2005.  I don’t have a clue what he did with them.  That’s what you tell everyone, your mother, your attorney, your neighbor, everyone.  And, you may never get to crow about it, and you must be okay with that.  There is nothing to be ashamed of, all of it is the cheater’s loss and shame to bear.